


Seeing the Sights

by parttimefemmefatale (writingramblr)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art, F/M, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Museums, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Washington D.C., eight x rose august
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4590426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/parttimefemmefatale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Tyler is on a touristy holiday in the Capitol of the US, and she plans to see it all.<br/>But one sight she wasn't prepared for was that of a handsome professor who manages to steal her attention away from all the beautiful art with one failed pickup line.</p><p>Being across the pond has never been more fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my actual contribution to the AU week of Eight x Rose August as the You've got Mail AU came about completely by accident.
> 
> Enjoy!

It didn’t matter who you were, or where you were going, traffic was always a nightmare.

Unless of course you were the top dog in town, and then they blocked off the roads for you, and made things even worse for all the other little people.

 

He hated driving into the city like nothing else, but _everything_ else, it had to be done.

*

The most annoying thing about his job was probably the tourists.

Yes of course he knew better than to actually criticize them aloud, for who knew who had money and could sue the little old lowly retired art teacher who now led tours at the National Gallery because pension funds just weren’t what they should be?

But he still hated them.

Every one of them with their grubby hands who’d pick up things in the gift shop on the way through, grimace at the price tag and then put it right back, or sometimes not quite in the same spot.

Things were expensive in the city, of course.

It was only logical.

That was another reason why he worked despite being technically retired.

He also had Grace and Lucie to think about.

A grimace of his own crossed his face as he made the turn into his usual parking spot.

Despite the amicable ending to his first marriage, and often he joked, only, he still regretted how things had gone.

If he could have done anything different it would have been not to wait so long to have asked Grace.

He’d asked her once, as they’d been about to graduate high school and go their separate ways, and she’d turned him down.

Then he’d waited near a decade to ask her again, after graduating college, with his masters in arts and bachelor of science, once having landed a respectable teaching position, he searched her out, and discovered her, newly divorced and surprisingly glad to hear from him.

Two months of catch up, and then he’d popped the question.

Now it had been just as long since the divorce had been finalized.

A whole decade of being on his own.

He supposed it only made sense.

Alone for the first twenty years of his life, and now he’d be alone for the last twenty-five or so.

He winced as he remembered his birthday this year was one of twin digits.

Five and five.

Although he was five years closer to a century than not, he considered himself in great shape.

Grace had always joked she’d start to look her age long before him, and in a way, she’d been right.

Of course, in the decade he’d not known her, she’d confessed she’d experimented early and often with drugs and smoked quite a bit.

She blamed her first husband, and he quite agreed.

The fact was, she was grey and had smile lines that were deeper than his forehead wrinkles.

He liked to think they gave him character.

He knew he was lucky not to have grey hair…yet.

There was still his glasses.

Reading glasses technically, but he now used them pretty much all day long, especially when tourists asked him about the titles of the paintings or the artists or the sculptures or whatever, since squinting at the placards was very unattractive in a guide.

The group he led around in the early morning, once he’d gotten a quick cup of coffee was always the quietest.

Students mostly, and chaperons, all exhausted at the early hours and remotely silent when it came time for questions.

Shuffling feet and mumbling and coughing and a few sniffled noses were the only sounds following him around.

Once lunch rolled around, things picked up slightly, and there was the rare intelligent question from the tour group.

As they passed the fountain in the middle of the first floor, many of the group asked to stop and take a picture.

Of course, being the gracious guide he was, he did just that.

It was also an excuse to rest his feet and re-gather his thoughts.

Not to mention he could check his notes and decide where exactly to go next.

But instead of doing much of that, his attention was completely and utterly snatched away by a figure across the massive cathedral like room.

The sky lights allowed gentle amounts of sunshine inside to illuminate the large room, and it perfectly framed the golden halo of hair that rested on a girl’s shoulders as she paced back and forth in a small line beside the fountain.

She was speaking animatedly with someone on her cell phone, and she looked around with wide eyes full of wonder and a tongue touched smile as she reacted to whatever the other person said.

He blinked.

He’d not found himself staring after a girl in probably thirty years.

She looked to be about Lucy’s age, maybe a bit younger, and she appeared to be alone.

So not part of a group of students, or with anyone.

Extremely unusual.

She got off the phone call in a few seconds, and then turned to look at the fountain, before snapping a few pictures, and then walking around it.

She was getting closer to him, and after he checked on his group, still wandering about the room and making faces into their own cameras, he tried to remain calm and casual.

She was about to walk right past him on her way towards the east gallery wing.

His mind raced with ideas of how to speak to her, or ways to distract her like she’d managed to do to him.

At the very last second, he became desperate, and dropped his pen.

It was attached to his entire clipboard, and the racket it made was significant, despite the numerous amount of people in the building.

Her eyes widened, and she automatically stepped towards him, hands reaching as she leaned down to retrieve it.

Check, check and check.

Tourist, not from the area, and kind as she looked.

He was in huge trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

Rose Tyler hadn’t exactly been excited about a trip to the nation’s capital, despite the many reasons she knew she should have been, and the fact it was her first trip out of the country.

Staying long term was out of the question money wise, but the best thing about the entire idea was the fact many of the touristy places she wanted to go were actually free to visit.

The most of museums for one, and most especially, the Gallery of Art.

Her mum Jackie had insisted it would be good for her, mentally and physically since she was trying to get a degree in the fine arts, hopefully teaching one day, and also since she needed a distraction from the horrible life choice that had been a one James Stone.

So she’d packed her stuff up, settled where she’d be staying, with the daughter of an old friend of Jackie’s just outside the city, and taken the first flight from London to D.C.

Arriving had been more of a hassle than she’d imagined, they’d nearly lost her luggage and then gotten the privilege of being caught in rush hour leaving the airport.

Overall, Rose’s first impression of the states and D.C. itself was not the greatest, but Jackie’s friend’s daughter, a certain Martha Jones, was quick to point out that it wasn’t always like that, and even London had its horrible times.

Martha had lived in the city for most of her life, before moving to the states to pursue her medical degree, and there she’d met her first wife and love, Clara Oswald, who’d been a nurse in the big hospital she’d started at.

Rose had not had any clue what sort of situation she’d be arriving to while she was staying at the Jones’ but Martha assured her that her space would be her own, and if she needed anything, she’d only need to come down stairs and ask.

To her surprise, the apartment was quite like a loft, and as such, her room and bath were on the same floor, as well as a mini-fridge in the small living space and her own TV.

“It’s perfect!” Rose exclaimed, and she couldn’t help hugging her new friend.

“Tomorrow you can take the metro into the city, and avoid all that nasty traffic. The only catch is, there’s a ton of walking around, unless you want to pay to take a tour bus.”

Martha winced as she spoke, and Rose got the impression that the tour buses had been something she’d done.

“I don’t mind looking around on my own. In fact, it might be better that way. I walk slow. I like to take notes too.”

Martha grinned, and her entire face lit up,

“That sounds perfect. I know you’ll have a great time. Now go get some rest, and we’ll see you in the morning, if you end up rising with the sun. Goodnight darling and welcome to D.C.!”

With a quick kiss on the cheek, Martha was flying down the stairs and going to give Clara a call to let her know they’d arrived back from the airport safely.

According to her schedule, Rose would be on her own the first few days if she liked, and then Martha would be off working, and Clara would be free to escort her around if she wanted.

There were a couple of places Rose wanted to visit by herself, mainly cause she didn’t know how much time she really wanted to spend there, and she didn’t want to risk wasting anyone’s time, and a few she just thought she’d get too absorbed in her note taking, and not really need a guide.

But until then, she was content to fall back on her bed, and catch up on some rest.

The jet lag hadn’t been as bad as she expected, but she’d forgone coffee that morning, so it was hitting her pretty hard.

When she woke up the next morning, she had a note from Martha and Clara, sitting beside a thermos of what had probably been hot coffee when it was poured, but now was a shippable warmth, and it warned her she could probably only take a bottle of water with her into the museums, so best to drink it before leaving the house.

There was also a gleaming silver key sitting atop the note, and Rose quickly threaded it onto her necklace chain she’d brought, which had her home key and the P.O. Box key she always used.

She was never much of a big jewelry fan, so it provided just a bit of shiny to any outfit.

The night before she’d only set her suitcase and bags aside, and not even changed out of her travel outfit before falling asleep.

Now with plenty of time before needing to head out, as Martha had told her most of the museums didn’t open until 930 or 10, and it was approximately 730, but felt like a strange almost lunchtime.

However, due to the fact she’d needed serious sleep, her body didn’t seem to mind that she had slept til almost noon her time. She just needed sustenance.

The coffee was a delicious perk up, but once she’d showered and found something to wear, she knew she’d need to stop and get breakfast somewhere on the way to her first museum.

Question was, would there be something in the city or near the metro, to obtain a water bottle?

She plucked a soft pink cardigan out and paired it with her usual jeans and a yellow tank top, before investigating the mini fridge.

It yielded just what she needed, a small enough water bottle to fit in her bag but also could easily be refilled.

Now all she needed was something of substance for breakfast.

Surprisingly, despite being inside the big city, all of the usual breakfast items at the most popular fast food chain were still the same average price.

The fact was she still felt a little bit giddy from riding the metro, so she only got a small breakfast sandwich, and figured she could stop for an early lunch, or more like early dinner, before heading back home.

She nibbled on the rest of it, which was made to her delight on what the Americans considered an English muffin, as she walked through the sculpture gardens leading to the National Gallery of Art.

She doubled back her steps to take photos of the more interesting pieces, and probably looked utterly ridiculous to anyone watching, but she didn’t care.

She was a tourist!

She was allowed to be ridiculous.

She grinned to herself as she waited for her bag to be checked upon entering the museum, and rolled her eyes at the way they intently studied her small water bottle, before deeming it ok.

It was half empty, and thus would have even passed security at the airport for goodness sake.

But she only nodded politely when she plucked the bag back up, and headed to the information center to stock up on a map, and guide to the most popular pieces.

She didn’t really have a specific destination in mind, she knew she wanted to walk throughout the entire building, and she was prepared to devote the whole afternoon to just that.

There was no rush.

Her sneakers made little to no noise on the freshly waxed floors, and she walked around the whole bottom floor rather quickly, despite stopping to read every placard on each exhibit.

The first floor was the biggest, and where the main bulk of the collection was anyway.

Riding the elevator was a fairly quick trip, but for some reason it made her heart race.

She was about to be able to stand before some of the most famous pieces in the art world, and she’d only had to cross an ocean to do it.

The smile that overtook her face was almost automatic, and she held her camera in hand like it was the only way she could contact the heavens.

It was more like a way to travel back in time. She’d be able to share the pictures of the works with any future students in her future classrooms of her future teaching career.

Well, she shrugged to herself, if she got a job doing just that.

Otherwise, they’d be a lot of nice reminders of the trip.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m sorry about that.”

He frowned,

“What on earth are you apologizing for?”

He noticed how her expression changed slightly after he spoke, and he realized she’d had an estuary lilt to her voice. She was British too.

“I startled you didn’t I?”

She was holding out his clipboard to him, and with a soft apologetic look on her face, and he became stuck on her eyes, the color of whiskey with fading light showing through.

She was giving him an excuse for his clumsiness and he wasn’t taking it.

He raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes,

“Absolutely. Your extraordinarily strange camera drew my attention and caused me to drop what I was doing.”

He managed to hold the expression just a few seconds, before breaking into a sheepish grin.

She laughed at him, and he noted her bottom teeth were slightly crooked, and she was simply beautiful when she smiled.

“Very clever. Wait, don’t tell me, you’re a senator here on your lunch break, and you thought you’d be able to finish up a bill you’re writing in peace. I’ve thrown everything off.”

She winked at him, and he knew she was joking.

Because of course he couldn’t be in politics as a foreigner.

Unless she thought he was faking his accent.

“Indeed. It’s much worse than that. I’m leading a tour group here, and I seem to have lost them to the west gardens. Or perhaps the east wing gift shop.”

He glanced around, and spotted them easily, congregating in the side hall, and staring at an unremarkable piece of modern art.

Close to the truth.

The girl coughed slightly, and he knew she was probably trying to think of a graceful way to leave, but he still hadn’t taken his clipboard back.

“Oh! Sorry about that. Let me just take that.”

Somehow his hand managed to brush over hers as he gripped the metal clip, and he swore he saw her eyes drop to it, before returning to his face.

She might have been blushed, or the pink of her jacket was simply catching the light and reflecting back up to her face.

Pink and yellow.

With her hair and jacket and pale skin and her shirt she was very much the colors of a flower.

He couldn’t let her leave without getting her name.

It was a big city, and chances were he’d never see her again.

“Is this your first visit to the city?”

She nodded, and her arms rose up to hug herself slightly as she glanced up at the ceiling, entranced for a moment.

“First visit to the States too.”

He found himself smiling easily,

“Well, excellent choices. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

She nodded again, and one of her hands drifted up to a stray lock of blonde, twisting it around her fingers as she looked back down at him.

He seemed to feel a tickle in the back of his mind telling him she was trying to say something without words, but with her actions.

What was it?

The art of flirting was a lost one.

He could sense the precious moments slipping away, and almost feel the antsy nature of his tour waiting on him.

Before he could stop to think, he spoke hurriedly, pulling off his glasses,

“Since you are new in town, I’m sure you could use a guide, if you want that is.”

Stumbling over words wasn’t something he ever did, and surely he was making a horrid misstep, and then she was shrugging and leaning in,

“I did have an offer for a guide later on in the week, but I could make time for another.”

She was smiling, and it was incredible.

There was that tongue touched grin he’d observed earlier, but now it was directed his way.

Maybe he was dying, with a heart attack, or maybe it was just speeding up.

“May I?”

She was reaching for his clipboard again, and he wordlessly handed it back.

She scribbled something on the top right hand corner, and then thrust it back to him,

“If you want to schedule a tour and check my availability, give me a call.”

She winked at him again, and then patted his arm gently, somehow ensuring he could feel the burning heat of her palm through even the thick tweed of his jacket.

“I will.”

He managed to reply, and she walked away slowly, ambling in the general direction of the west wing.

After making his way back to his tour group in a semi daze, he started leading the final half of the trip.

It wasn’t until they were released into the gift shop that he dared glance up at the corner of his clipboard.

He was stunned to recall he’d never asked her name, and she’d not needed to get his, thanks to his ridiculously large print name tag on his left breast pocket, but she’d written in loopy script, ‘ _The name is Rose btw_ ,’ preceding her number.

A cheeky smiley face followed the digits and he smiled to himself.

He’d managed to get taken with a complete stranger and someone who was probably the only European tourist _not_ on one of the museum tours all in one fell swoop.

Once he’d parted from the group, and begun to clock his lunch break, he made his way to the café, and chose a table near the back of the foyer, beside a column so he could easily people watch.

It was his favorite part of observing the annoying tourists.

Watching their antics.

The newest thing he noticed was the constant stopping to take ‘selfies.’

He’d once asked Grace exactly what that meant, and she’d in turn told him to ask Lucie.

He’d rolled his eyes and done no such thing.

Being given the runaround, no matter how causally was simply frustrating.

He’d just put in his order of the chicken salad sandwich, something he treated himself to when the week came to a close, or when it was half over, or whenever the hell he felt like it, and was preparing to properly doctor his peach iced tea, when he looked up and spotted a familiar pink jacket.

*

The atrium containing the most famous art museum fountain was stunning. Rose made several laps around the fountain itself before stopping to look up.

Sky lights ensured everything was blessed with an ethereal glow, and the light was perfect for taking selfies.

Many people were doing just that.

Rose, for her part, couldn’t resist doing the same, and sending one to her mum.

Five seconds later, she called.

“Hey mum.”

She grinned at the floor as she drew a circle with her sneaker toe, and Jackie went on about things back home, before stopping to ask her questions about how the city was, and where all she’d been.

“Mum, I’ve only been here a few hours. I’m starting with my favorite, the art, then I’ll be moving on to the historical stuff.”

After making a few rounds of the fountain, she finally hung up with her mum, and decided to resume her tour of the art.

To her right, standing beside the fountain was a man about average height, clutching a clipboard to his chest like a lifejacket, and wearing a forest green tweed jacket.

A purple scarf took the place of a tie and it was what led her eye up to his face.

She gulped.

Lots of pretty people had been on the metro and she’d ignored them all the second she noticed a ring or the fact they weren’t alone.

Right now, in front of her was probably the most handsome man she’d ever witnessed in her life.

Then again, she did have her telly crushes, but none of them had ever come close to being realistic.

The bloke in front of her looked every inch the kind of professor that would have made her school more interesting and also much more challenging. The glasses that framed his face only made him more studious.

Her eyes dropped from studying the angles and planes of his face, and not to mention his beautiful eyes, to his left hand, and it was blessedly free of jewelry.

She took another step towards the direction of her destination, and noticed his glance had shifted.

He’d been basically staring off into the distance, and now he’d spotted her and looked down at his clipboard, no longer braced against his chest, and he appeared to be frowning at something on it. His glasses were sliding dangerously far down the bridge of his nose.

She wondered if she’d made any sort of mistake.

He had a proper nametag and she knew at once he worked for the museum.

She edged away from the fountain, just in case she’d been loitering or something of that manner, and began to pass by him.

There really wasn’t anything she could think of to say that wasn’t completely silly and wouldn’t sound horribly touristy and foolish.

But despite her efforts, ‘Where could I find the giftshop?’ was on the tip of her tongue, when his clipboard clattered to a stop right in front of her feet.

“Oh!”

She moved at once to pick it back up and missed the way his hands twitched to do just that.

He most certainly dropped it, and she wasn’t quite sure why.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lack of updates, i was out of town and working on mobile to add chapters is not a good idea...

She’d been incredibly forward and walked away slowly to keep herself from running for the exit and never looking back.

Her heart had raced the entire time, and surely he’d noticed how her hands shook as she wrote down her number?

By the time she made her way through the gallery and was moving past the restaurant, she knew better than to try and stop there to eat, with sandwiches starting at 10 dollars, who was she kidding?

The gift shop was her final destination, and she hoped to be able to find a nice pair of earrings, or a scarf to commemorate the visit.

Then again, perhaps it would have been cheaper to just have take her maps and brochures and go.

She glanced briefly at the patrons and well dressed people in the café, and then noticed a certain shade of green.

She hoped he wouldn’t think she was following him.

She tried to walk past without being noticed, but damning the shade of pink she’d picked in her jacket, he looked up and spotted her.

He smiled slightly, and reached up to pull off his glasses,

“Are you lost?”

He was clearly teasing her, and she couldn’t stop the traitorous blush that heated her cheeks.

Of course not.

She was heading in the exact correct direction.

“Do I look it?”

Was what came out of her mouth.

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged,

“I don’t know. But I didn’t expect I’d run into you again, and yet, here you are. So I figured you had to be lost.”  


Rose bit the inside of her cheek, to keep from grinning too broadly,

“Am I interrupting your lunch break?”

He shrugged again,

“As you can see, my food hasn’t yet arrived, so I’d say you’re on the other side of interrupting, and simply entertaining me until my lunch actually starts.”

A sly smile twisted his mouth, and Rose wondered if he was teasing her still.

“Would you like some company?”

The offer was spontaneous, but she did wonder if he was expecting company or not.

“Of course. I’d love it. Could I get you something to drink?”

He waved a hand towards the empty seat, and her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she moved to sit down.

Sitting across from him, and not simply throwing her number at him and fleeing now made the entire thing seem so much more real.

He smiled gently at her, and she realized she still hadn’t answered him.

She looked at his glass, and blinked swiftly before speaking,

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

His smile broadened and his eyes seemed to laugh at her,

“Excellent. It’s peach iced tea. Always good.”

A waiter appeared out of nowhere and he gave her drink order to them before they vanished again.

“I wasn’t planning on stopping here, merely because it’s a bit out of my budget,” she admitted reluctantly, if only to make a point that she wasn’t about to let him pay.

He waved a hand around again,

“Nonsense. I work here, so I get to eat at a discount otherwise I’d be right there with you. The food isn’t as good as they like to think. But for free, it’s fine. Don’t worry about a thing, you’re with me, so it’s not a problem.”

Rose found herself gaping at him several long seconds before she snapped her mouth shut.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

He leaned back in his chair, all the better to study her, and as he took a long sip of his tea, she noticed how his eyes never left hers.

“Well…thank you so much.”

He nodded,

“It’s nothing. But I’m sure you weren’t expecting this sort of thing from us stingy city folk.”

He winked at her, and before she could think of a reply, the waiter returned with her drink, effectively distracting her.

*

He couldn’t believe his luck.

He’d asked her to join him on a whim, and she’d said yes.

Now he could sit and talk with her, without having to worry about how soon to call her.

Of course that presented a whole lot of other problems.

He hadn’t been on a date, for that’s basically what this had now become, in about thirty five years.

He still didn’t know how old she was either.

It was all a big mess.

“Maybe…maybe not. I’m just surprised at everything that’s happened on my first day here.”

She grinned at him and took a sip of her tea, before nodding appreciatively.

He cleared his throat,

“What made you decide to come to D.C. rather than say, New York?”

She sat up in her chair a bit more eagerly,

“I’ve always wanted to visit but considering the fact I know people here to stay with, and don’t have any connections in New York, that made the choice obvious. Also, this was my first choice to come to because of the rich history. I’m considering teaching art some day, and with my degrees, it shouldn’t be too hard.”

That answered some questions for him, and made him breath a tad easier at her mention of her age.

Unless she was some child prodigy she was inside the comfortable age range.

He didn’t really know where his rules had come from, for when he’d known Grace, he’d been prepared to break a big one by asking her to get married before even starting college.

Before he continued the conversation, he pulled off his scarf, as he was beginning to feel slightly warm considering he was no longer walking around leading a group of tourists and passing under various air conditioning vents.

He noticed Rose’s eyes followed his movement slightly before returning to his face and he wondered if she liked the color of the scarf.

It had been the last real Christmas present from Grace before the divorce, and god, why did he keep thinking about her?

“That sounds rather arrogant doesn’t it? Not that degrees make any job easier to find…”

He smiled,

“It’s perfectly fine my dear. I held a teaching position for several decades, and still continue to work here because, it pays the bills, to be honest.”

The word had slipped out, and before he could bite his tongue, he noticed her cheeks turn pink.

“Oh. How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

She was quick.

He smiled, mostly to help ease the blow, and mostly at his own luck he’d made it this far,

“I’ll be fifty-five this autumn. Retired only three years, and that’s how long I’ve been here.”

The widening of her eyes was to be expected, but the way they lazily drifted over all she could see of him was a surprise, before they returned to his with an almost audible snap.

She grinned at him, cheeky thing she was, and leaned forward,

“You must tell the world your secret, I never would have guessed past forty.”

His eyebrows lifted,

“And that would have been okay as well?”

Rose shrugged.

“It’s pretty silly to rule someone out to talk with just because they’re not one’s exact age.”

He grinned,

“What might that be?”

“Twenty five.”

Not bad.

Not nearly as low as he’d been guessing.

The heart shaped rounding of her face was what deceived him.

The way she walked as if ready to conquer the world, the way she looked at everything with interest and not contempt, that was what made her seem younger.

She wasn’t nearly as jaded as he’d been at that age.

Once the waiter had brought his lunch and he’d offered to share his sandwich with her, instead of planning to wrap up the other half like he usually did, to save it for dinner, the conversation took up a steady flow again.

The fact that she wanted to teach the very thing he’d enjoyed doing for so long was an amazing stroke of luck.

He provided her with bits of advice he’d picked up, and she was able to ask questions he never received during tours.

By the time his lunch break was up, he didn’t ever want to leave.

It was silly.

He still had her number.

She still wanted to see him again.

She actually gave him a short hug before dancing off towards the gift shop, and he didn’t feel his heartbeat settle down until she was out of sight.

Rose Tyler, the pink and yellow girl who’d managed to bewitch him in only a day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates, RL has been acting up lately.

Former Professor John Smith was incredibly interesting.

He was so much more than a pretty face, and though Rose’s breath had caught at the revealing of his true age, she didn’t mind.

She’d heard the cliché of ‘age is just a number’ enough to know better than to judge.

As long as he wasn’t currently married or otherwise not actually available, she didn’t care.

The fact was that he looked nothing but what his age was, and she knew she hadn’t been imagining the sparks that she felt when letting go of his arm after the brief hug she stole.

He’d also called her something that she’d never forget.

My dear.

That was such an old fashioned sort of thing.

Nothing like the modern day way she’d been addressed, or the horridly annoying nicknames James had given her.

Mostly when he wanted something.

Walking through the giftshop, she was mostly in a daze, occasionally picking up something that caught her eye, only to put it right back when she noticed the price tag.

The ridiculous thing was, she’d been expecting the worst.

But almost a hundred dollars for a pocket square just because it was printed with ‘Starry Night?’ She didn’t think so.

Better just to get a book of post cards and call it done.

So she did.

By the time she left out the way she’d come, the sculpture garden, the sun was beginning to set, and she needed to catch a metro back home.

She grinned to herself as she tucked away her cell phone which had doubled as her camera, she expected she’d be hearing from the professor sometime soon.

*

Despite the lovely spur of the moment lunch date they’d had, John was still very nervous about how to approach his phone call to Rose.

He only paced around his apartment for a few days before finally deciding he wanted to bring her something more than the usual bouquet of flowers when they met up again, for he wondered with her name, how many poor fools had brought bunches of roses without thinking.

As the line rung, he tried to figure out what she might like, and how he could ask without giving it away.

“Hello?”

John felt his heart jump to his throat at the sound of her voice,

“Hello, Rose?”

“Yes of course. It’s me. John?”

He smiled, relaxing slightly,

“As you would say, yes of course. How was your first weekend in Washington?”

Rose laughed on the other end of the line, and John suddenly wanted to hear the sound more often, it was like music to his ears,

“It was a lot of fun. My friends that I’m staying with took me out to this pirate themed bar. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many men with hoop earrings.”

John was speechless for a moment before recovering,

“Ah, I know the place. It is kind of wild.”

“Oh god John I’m sorry. I wish I could have invited you, but I was letting you call me…that was stupid.”

It made John feel slightly fuzzy inside that she would think of him, and it completely washed away the foolish flare of jealousy he’d felt seconds before,  
“Of course, it’s not a problem. I’m sure eventually we can make our way to that bar.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Where did you want to go for our second date then?”

John started, and he was surprised to note she didn’t sound like she was kidding, sure her voice held an element of teasing, but the question was totally serious.

“Uh, honestly I wanted to find out what you liked. So I could best recommend a place.”

Rose laughed again,

“I’m glad to hear that. Most blokes just jump right into their itinerary and hardly stop for breath.”

John couldn’t resist a chuckle at the expense of his fellow man,

“Rose I think you’ll find I’m not most blokes.”

He wasn’t sure if he imagined it or if Rose’s voice went all breathy,

“Oh I know that. But the most important thing to know is that I love to dance. I love good conversation, which we have already, and I love chips.”

The pieces were falling into place, and John was already eliminating several clubs and bars, before he struck upon one.

“Do you like Irish themed bars? With live music and incredible food, including chips? As well as half priced ale on Tuesdays?”

He paused for a moment to await her reaction, and was pleasantly rewarded with another giggle,

“Yes! That sounds perfect. They really do know how to make a good chippy with fish. But Tuesday is awfully far away…”

She was definitely kidding now. It was only Sunday evening.

“Oh?”

“Yeah…but I guess that’s just me being impatient.”

“You should remember I need time to collect a proper welcoming gift for you.”

“Oh? Lunch didn’t count?”

She was smiling on the other end of the line, he could sense it.

“Of course not. That was simply a gentleman treating a lady who looked on the verge of starvation.”

Another giggle, and John swore he might start to agree with her. Two days looked like an eternity.

“I was not! But it was still very sweet of you to come to my rescue, although I might not have needed it.”

“You’re quite welcome. Now pop question, what are your favorite colors?”

“Oh boy, this is a hard one. And why colors? You think I like more than one?”

John grinned,

“I think I know that you can easily change your mind from day to day, so multiple is a much better option.”

“Okay, you got me. I love green, yellow, blue, black and pink.”

John hummed to himself and heard her laughing,

“I will do my utmost to find something with most or all of those colors.”

“Well then, thank you in advance. Can you text me that address on Tuesday?”

“Of course. I’ll send it Monday night so you can look it up if you need to.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“I look forward to seeing you again Rose.”

“Same here John. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Hanging up the line felt a lot harder than picking it up had first been, and John took that as a good sign. The fact that she’d mentioned she wished he’d called sooner so they could have met again sooner was even better.

He’d not wanted to overwhelm her by calling right after they’d parted ways, so he’d set his clipboard aside and promptly forgotten about it until he was going home Saturday night, and by then, it was far too late to call.

But now, he had an idea in mind of what to bring her and he couldn’t wait until Monday morning came, and he was at work.

A rare thing.

*

“Who was that you were talking to?”

Martha had snuck up on Rose, and she’d just hung up when her friend popped out from behind the doorway, scaring Rose half to death and smiling at her with a mischievous grin.

Rose smacked her hand to her chest and turned to look at Martha,

“Well, if you must know, it was a professor I met at the gallery.”

Her friend’s brown eyes widened and she swooped in to give Rose a hug and bumped her hips,

“What’s he like?”

Rose could feel herself blushing before she spoke again, and Martha must have spotted it.

“Oh…he’s cute and you like him.”

Rose shrugged halfheartedly,

“Sure.”

“Don’t be daft. You don’t need to lie to me.”

“’M’not lying. I barely know him.”

“But you want to?”

“Yeah.”

“Well as they say, you go get it girl.”  
Rose fought it as long as she could, but she eventually dissolved into giggles, and Martha was right there along with her.

“What’s going on in ‘ere?”

Clara’s singsong voice called out and up the stairs, and Martha sprang off of Rose.

“Darling! You’re home at last. Our lovely Rose has some wonderful news.”

“What’s that then?”

Clara studied Rose carefully, and before she could even speak, there was a gasp, and Martha winked.

“She’s in love.”

“How did you know?”

Rose spluttered and tried to argue, and Clara answered blithely,

“Because you had the same look on your face after I kissed you the first night.”

“Well your kisses are magical darling. You could probably make a robot come to life.”

Clara looked thoughtful as Rose hid her face in her hands, and gave up trying to fight back.

She liked John a lot yes, but she didn’t want to agree that she might be in anything but like with him.

_They_ hadn’t kissed yet.

But she had a sneaking suspicion he’d be excellent at it.

She looked forward to proving her theory.


	6. Chapter 6

The gift shop could usually be deemed rather intimidating to most men, especially the areas containing jewelry and accessories.

However, considering the information John was armed with, it was going to be a simple matter to find the items that were beautiful enough to be worthy of Rose’s attention. The only problem was that it took him his entire lunch break Monday to decide precisely which scarves to get her.

It wasn’t until his hands were overflowing with scarves and his Tuesday lunch break was nearly over that he realized he’d forgotten to text her the address of the Irish pub.

He arrived at the checkout counter and set the scarves down gently before whipping out his cell phone and sending her a quick greeting text with a screenshot of the address he’d looked up on his map app the night before.

While walking back to his desk and preparing to eat the fastest lunch on record, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and with his free hand, the one not clutching the sack filled with her presents, he checked it.

“No worries. Was wondering if you’d forgotten.”

A winking smiley stared up at him, and he hoped that meant he was somewhat forgiven.

“What time did you want to meet?”

Followed up the message with the smiley, and John could have smacked himself on the forehead.

He’d completely forgotten to even bring up times with her Sunday.

Flipping through his schedule, he saw his last tour was at 4:45pm.

Factoring the minimal time it would take him to get ready, he smiled to himself, and texted her back at once.

“How’s 6:30 sound? Too early for drinks and dinner?”

The replying text was almost immediate and the speed at which his heart picked up was almost ridiculous.

The girl made him feel like a giddy teenager again.

“Never too early to see you. Till 630.”

His afternoon tours might have wondered what he was smiling so easily about, but they never questioned it.

John clocked out at 5:30 on the dot and went to board the metro without looking back.

*

  
“So what are you going to wear?”

Martha was still sticking around, even though she worked in about twenty minutes, just to give Rose a hard time.

Rose was still pacing back and forth in front of her suitcase, and the fact that she could easily ask to borrow something from her roommate wasn’t far from her mind.

“Uh…I don’t know. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”

“But?”

“But he’s probably the most interesting bloke I’ll date for the rest of my life.”

Martha rolled her eyes, but Rose didn’t see.

“You can’t be serious darling. He’s just a professor. What makes that so special?”

Rose looked over at her, tapping her foot on the carpet impatiently,

“He taught art! I mean, that’s my dream job. So it’s kind of intimidating.”

Martha waved a hand at her,

“Silliness. All you need to do is go in dressed to the nines and make him fall at your feet. That’s how you do it.”

She put her arm around Rose’s shoulders and guided her over to her room, and the closet just inside said room.

“Go wild. Make me proud. I’ve got to head to work. So I’ll see you later and you can fill me in on all the dirty deets. Clara will be here when you get home…if you get home tonight.”

With a sly wink and a smile Martha was gone, skipping down the stairs, leaving Rose gaping at her closet and wondering just what she’d gotten herself into.

There was a chrome colored sequined mini dress that seemed to be calling her name, but she wasn’t sure if it was too flashy for just a pub.

Flat shoes were the deciding factor.

She decided she didn’t mind being a little bit shorter than John.

It wasn’t like he towered over her anyway.

Besides, she realized Martha had a point.

Technically their second date, anything could happen.

Could be a kiss.

Dancing could be too much fun.

Rose glanced at the clock and realized she needed to stop messing around and figure out what she was going to wear once and for all if she wanted to make it to the pub on time.

She took a deep breath, and reached for the shimmery mini dress.

*

John got the pub first. He had had a feeling that would happen.

He probably lived closer.

Ordering a pint to calm his nerves was an easy choice.

He checked his phone while he sat perched on the edge of the barstool, and the time was 6:31.

The glass thunked down in front of him and he took a hasty sip.

Ice cold and perfectly refreshing.

If he had been thirsty for it then it would have hit the spot.

As it was, he found himself rather more in the market to see a certain pair of eyes three shades darker than hazel and hair like liquid sunshine.

When did he start getting so poetic with his daydreams?

The bell above the front door to the pub dinged, and he couldn’t help himself, he spun around in his chair to look.

The sight that greeted his eyes made his heart nearly skip a beat.

It was her.

She smiled shyly over at him, having spotted him almost instantly, and how could she have missed him?

He had chosen to wear a purple tweed jacket instead of his usual green or tan or navy, and for once just thrown on a silver dress shirt, with no scarf or cravat to hide his neck.

He blinked rapidly behind his glasses, and debated whether to take them off before they fell off from the sweat sliding down his nose.

Rose walked over to him slowly, and it seemed as if she brought the setting sun with every step. Light reflected off of the sequins to her dress, and his eyes were naturally drawn to the soft curve of her waist and further, seeing the hem that stopped scandalously high, barely five inches down her thighs, and the rest of her bare legs were incredibly tan.

She just wore flat black ballet style slippers, and he wondered if she’d planned that to be able to dance easier.

When his gaze snapped back up to her face, she was blushing.

She’d dressed to impress all right.

Or had she meant to make him speechless?

“Hi. You look nice.”

She’d ripped the words right out of his mouth.

After hopping onto a barstool beside him, she crossed her legs and turned to face him, only making the dress ride up a little higher and he was suddenly glad he didn’t have anything around his neck.

It was hard enough to breathe properly already.

“Rose.”

His voice came out sounding rather like the croak of a frog.

She nodded, and he tried to continue.

“You’re absolutely stunning.”

That was a nice thing to say. It sounded remotely intelligent.

She was ducking her head and smiling.

“Thank you. No one’s ever said that before.”

John took the chance to look her up and down again, and pretended to look offended,

“And you often dress like this? People you hang around with must be blind.”

Rose shook her head, giggling slightly,

“Oh no! I’ve never worn anything like this in my life. I borrowed it from my friend whom I’m staying with. I don’t own a single mini dress.”

John felt his vision go a little bit cross eyed and he realized his glasses had indeed betrayed him.

Before he could reach up and push them back into place, as well as think of something else clever to say besides the fact that Rose was making him feel like a complete idiot, one of her small hands slipped up to his face, gently pressed the frames up, and stroked his cheek before dropping back to her side.

He gulped down a hasty breath of air, and tried to act normal.

She’d touched him, quite innocently, and yet all he wanted to do was take that hand back and kiss it.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

She looked around the pub and then focused on his glass,

“I’ll try one of those. That looks good.”

He grinned at her,

“Are we doing that again then?”

Rose blinked at him, and then he saw the realization dawn.

“Déjà vu right?”

He nodded.

“Well maybe I just respect your choices in the food and beverage department.”

She reached over again and patted his arm, which had been resting close enough to his glass if he felt he needed a sip for strength.

Definitely he needed one now.

“Excellent decision.”


	7. Chapter 7

John ordered her a pint of what he was having, and then turned back to study her a bit longer before snapping his fingers and mentioning how he needed to give her flowers.

“Not a traditional bouquet mind you, I understand that you’re probably sick of the idea in general so I thought I’d put my own spin on it.”

Rose was barely still catching her breath from her daring move of straightening his glasses, to which he’d reacted by freezing beneath her touch, and then meeting her gaze with an incredible intensity that made her wish they weren’t in such a crowded place.

“Oh?”

He leaned down to pluck a bag from the floor which she hadn’t even noticed, having been completely hypnotized by his entire self, movements, apparel and all, and he pulled out a blur of colors in something that looked like silk, before handing it to her.

“Ta-da.”

He waited in silence as she looked it over.

It appeared to be a cluster of scarves, in the various colors she’d mentioned that she liked.

The beautiful patterns and designs caught her eye first, until she fingered one of them, and knew her suspicions were correct. They were silk.

“Wow…thank you so much. This is very sweet of you to do. I can’t say a bunch of flowers would travel well on the metro, but you didn’t have to do this.”

“Rose, you’re welcome. I didn’t have to do it, but it was my pleasure. I’m just glad you like it.”

She looked up at him again, away from the confections which could be technically called accessories and caught him staring at her chest.

His eyes fluttered up and away to her face as soon as he’d been caught, but she almost didn’t mind.

It was kind of flattering.

She wasn’t wearing the dress to be ignored.

“I love it.”

She tucked the scarves into her purse, and then put both hands on the bar, as her pint had arrived while she was distracted.

“So tell me John, what is it you do when not leading tours and appreciating art?”

The question seemed to take him off guard and she watched in secret delight as he thought for a moment before replying.

His neck was surprisingly bare, no ties or scarves of his own to hide it, and she found herself wondering if she could kiss him hard enough to leave a mark, if he’d let her, and how it would look.

She saw him swallow and then she realized he’d spoken and she’d missed it while ogling his throat.

“Sorry?”

John smiled at her, and his blue eyes crinkled softly in the corners,

“Merely take every enjoyment out of life that it has to offer me. There’s not much else for someone who’s retired by any other name.”

Rose gulped a bit of air before taking a quick sip of her ale.

Her one hand rested dangerously close to his arm that still was on the bar, and she wondered if she could pull a stunt and ask him to tie one of the scarves around her neck.

What color went with chrome?

Her thoughts raced and she fought to keep from blushing as they sped right past the rest of the night and jumped to a conclusion that Martha had teased her about.

*

John wasn’t sure if he’d just given an answer that was total bull or one that made him seem much more carefree and cool about being retired but not.

The words spilled out of Rose’s mouth in a hurry, and he found himself having to piece together the sentence backwards and forwards to make sure he heard her correctly.

“Are you hungry? Cause I’m not. Do you want to go for a walk?”

He blinked.

“Um.”

He watched as if half asleep, in a daze, as her hand shifted infinitesimally closer, and when her fingers brushed over the back of his palm, her touch set him on fire.

“I’ll get the tab. But I don’t really want to go through this same ol same ol dating charade. You know? I like you. I want to dance with you, but not tonight.”

John suddenly can’t breathe right and finding out the same crazy line of thought he’d been avoiding for the last half hour was actually the very same one that the brilliant and beautiful girl in front of him was running down was a stroke of luck.

“Please?”

Why does she think she needs to beg?

He’s right there with her.

“I’d love to go for a walk with you.”

Rose smiled shyly at him and ducked her head,

“Okay. Whew. Glad I’m not just imagining things.”

He offered her his arm at the door, and she took it without question.

The night in Washington was slightly muggy but not as hot as it was earlier.

He tries not to stare too long at the way a gentle breeze winds through her hair, making her blonde waves dance over her shoulders.

She’s just too much.

Out of a dream.

“So professor…just how far of a walk is it to your place?”

He blinks away his surprise.

Right to the point.

Did she just?

She definitely bit her lip and gave him the same up down look he stole twice from her.

“Uh, not too far.”

His voice sounds horribly like a frog again.

She leans in closer, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Tell me about where you’ve been. Paris? Rome? Ireland?”

John smiled despite his nerves and the raging heat of desire rushing through him, demanding payment in the form of endless kisses and too many touches from her soft fingers.

“Paris, yes. Once, while I was on a layover to Switzerland.”

Rose hummed, and he felt the vibration from her throat against his arm.

She was stroking his hand, tracing a finger down each knuckle, before ending the torture, and lacing her fingers through his.

*

The entire thing was crazy, a mad notion all because of the dress.

That was what Rose kept telling herself.

Walking slowly back to John’s place, listening to him tell her about his trip’s across Europe in his soft soothing voice, she wondered how she’d ever thought she’d be okay with just making it a one night thing.

They hadn’t even slept together yet and she was considering the mad notion of asking him to come back to London with her.

Just for a few weeks.

To see if he couldn’t find a real job he liked, or find a decent place to live that wouldn’t require him to work if he didn’t want.

Oh and easy access to her every day.

She wanted to listen to him before she fell asleep, and hear him when she woke up.

It was horribly cliché and desperately cheesy.

They’d stopped walking.

John was tugging her hand gently, and they were ascending some steps.

“Here we are.”

Rose gulped, and nodded.

“You have a nice place.”

John shrugged,

“Everywhere is nice on the edge of the city.”

Rose looked around, nervously trying to figure out something to say that didn’t make her look like a complete…

John was stepping closer and now she couldn’t think straight at all.

His hands were warm on her hips, and his arms were strong around her waist.

“I’m going to kiss you. Is that all right?”

She could only nod.

He was the perfect height for kissing, and in the few seconds of cognitive thought before their lips met, she was so glad she’d forgone heels.

His mouth had looked incredibly kissable, as had his neck and throat and the exposed bit of his collarbone she could see, but now she was getting the real deal.

The kiss was quick and tentative at first, and she didn’t want to keep it chaste, so she parted her lips for him.

His tongue was gentle and wet and found hers almost instantly.

When he pulled her closer, the kiss deepened and she tried to keep from smiling into it, knowing it might throw things off.

“Rose.”

He mumbled under his breath, and she pulled away slowly, blinking as if waking from a dream.

“Hmm?”

“Are you real?”  
She frowned slightly,

“I hope so.”

John grinned sheepishly,

“Of course, but I guess I mean something more like, are you really here with me, because you want me a fraction of the amount I want you? I just want you to be sure. I don’t usually do this sort of thing. I’m very out of practice.”

Rose bit her tongue to keep from laughing,

“I don’t do this either. I mean, sure I hand my number to a bloke if I think he’s interesting, but you…well I couldn’t wait to see you again. I don’t skip dinner and go for dessert if I’m not sure.”

He brushed his nose against hers and sighed against her cheek,

“You have no idea how honored that makes me feel. Shall we go inside and not risk scandalizing my neighbors?”

Rose did giggle at that,

“It’s up to you, but I think I’d be more comfortable on a horizontal surface.”

“Indeed. You’re quite right.”

The turn of the key in the lock and the click of the door shutting behind them was music to Rose’s ears.

She didn’t really have time to look around at John’s place before he swept her off her feet, into his arms, and kissed her breathless again.

How he was able to walk in a relatively straight line to wherever his room was, without setting her down was a feat of hard to believe strength.

She admired that.

Things got a little heated as she pushed off his tweed jacket and he fumbled for the zipper of her dress, but the rest of the night was pretty smooth.

All that was left before the main event was a whisper that she was fine and he was doing exactly what she liked.

There wasn’t anything else but them and how incredible they made each other feel for the rest of the night.

When the morning sun broke through the windows, Rose stretched languidly and nearly whacked John in the face.

“Good morning.”

His voice was a pleasant rumble in her ear, and she giggled, rolling over him to lay on top of him, planting a kiss on his still extraordinarily kissable mouth.

Now he had a bit of a shadow that could be shaved, or left on for character.

“Breakfast?”

“I hope you’re cooking. Cause I’m useless in the kitchen.”

Rose pouted at him.

“You’ve just shattered my dreams professor.”

His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her over to be cushioned between the pillows and smushed comforter.

“Oh I like it when you call me that. Next time, do that in the midst of things hmm?”

She reached up to straighten his mussed hair, and stroked his cheek on the way down,

“Yes, professor.”

As a result, breakfast was slightly delayed, and it only ended up being hasty cups of coffee.

Work beckoned for John, and Rose needed to catch a train home and hope Clara was sleeping and wouldn’t see her enter in such a flashy outfit.

But her cell phone chirped as she walked inside, giving her position away, with a cheerful text from John.

“You look just as sexy in the morning as you did last night. Don’t be a stranger.”

A kiss smiley was at the end of his message, and she grinned like an idiot at the screen, ignoring Clara’s inhuman screech at the sight of her.

She texted back before trying to start her defense to her roommate.

“Next time we’ll make use of those scarves. Don’t wait three days to call me this time John.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and they lived happily ever after!  
> frankly I'm proud of myself for keeping it clean.


End file.
